


Kindness

by quartile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, who coaches the coach?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10082168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartile/pseuds/quartile
Summary: Short and simple. Having left Yuuri in Moscow, Victor lets himself worry about Makkachin. Set during the events of Episode 9.





	

It's not until the round-faced flight attendant guides Victor to his business-class seat, a solicitous hand on his arm, that his lip starts to tremble. He holds it together until she's partway through the safety demonstration; then he has to turn away, toward the window.

His head is a swirl of Makkachin moments. The silly poodle puppy who pounced into his lap the first time they met, demanding Victor’s heart. The feisty friend dragging him on walks along the Neva, until the groomer's shop came into view and he darted behind Victor's legs and whined. The great floofy pillow curled up alongside him on the sofa, the sole soft, brown, sloppy, cuddly thing in an apartment of immaculate chromes and grays.

Skating is his first love. Yuuri, he hopes with all his heart, will be his last. But Makka... damn it, whose bright idea was it to domesticate the wolf in the first place, who ever would have believed the heartbreak, they'd never have let the mutts come lie by their campfires if they had only known.

Victor, whose sunny humor cannot be dampened by his coach’s upbraidings nor by his young teammate’s tantrums, who can cheer Yuuri through a thousand pangs of worry with unfailing optimism, covers his mouth, trying not to cry.

He can’t meet the flight attendant’s eyes when she comes to offer coffee or tea. _Sumimasen. Sorry._ The gentleman in the next seat lowers his tray for him without making eye contact, setting down a cup of water and a packet of biscuits. _Spasiba,_ Victor says softly, _arigato._ The man leaves an extra paper napkin within reach.

 _I never should have left Makkachin in Japan._ Victor takes out his phone, thumbs through photos. _I never should have_ taken _him to Japan. I should have left him with someone back home. I thought he’d be better off by my side._

He pauses on a snapshot of Makkachin frolicking at the shore in Hasetsu. _But I_ didn’t _keep him by my side. And now this. What can I do?_

He stares, resting his head in his hand.

_Yuuri needs me, too._

\--

When he emerges from customs, Mari is there, on the other side of the glass barrier. The Katsukis are not huggers – with one notable exception, all Victor’s doing – so Mari takes Victor's garment bag and walks him to her car, hanging the bag on a hook over the back seat. She crushes her cigarette under her heel before getting in.

As they leave the parking area, she says, "Makkachin is okay. It is not that bad.”

"He is a bad dog," Victor says, the words tumbling out, a scree of scraping stones. "He knows better than to eat people food. I can't forgive myself. Is he suffering? How long are they keeping him?"

"We will go tomorrow morning. The dog doctor says maybe he can come home at noon." She passes him her phone. "I took pictures. Makka is okay, I promise."

"Mari," says Victor, and finds he cannot say more.

"It is nothing,” she says. She glances his way quickly before merging onto the main road. "We are happy to help."

\--

After the Katsuki family goes to bed, Victor returns to the TV room at the onsen and scrolls through the programs on the DVR until he finds what he’s looking for. He sips hot, sweet milk tea from the vending machine, straight from the can. He rewinds, replays, takes notes.

_He dropped that double to a single._

_Ugh, his foot touched on the landing, what is he doing?_

_Triple Axel, single loop, triple Salchow... good, good, hang on, keep it together._

_You got this, come on – oh. Oh, Yuuri. Pick yourself up. That was nothing to be ashamed of._

Rewinds, replays.

_You’re getting closer to the gold. I can feel it._

Rewinds, replays.

_Yuuri, my Yuuri... don’t lose sight of the prize._

Later, unable to sleep, he pads down to the hot spring and strips. Slides into the warm, mineral-rich water. Watches the incongruity of his breath forming clouds under chilly stars.

\--

“I’ll see Makka in a few hours, as soon as the vet clinic opens. Mari thinks I can bring him home today.”

“That’s a relief,” Yuuri says, six time zones and a continent away. “I’m really glad to hear it.”

“Let’s talk about your performance.” Victor consults his notepad. “Your first jump wasn’t what we worked on in practice. You were distracted. Something on your mind?”

“Well...” Yuuri is pensive. “I was worried about Makkachin... and you... and I guess my nerves snowballed from there.”

“I told you, I’m fine, he’s fine. Everybody’s fine.” Victor lowers his voice. “I don’t want you to think about it a minute longer.” 

There’s an announcement in the background on Yuuri’s end of the line. “I’ve got to go, they’re boarding us.” He hesitates only briefly before blurting, “Victor, I’m sorry I let you down. I’ll be home soon, and we can work on the routine together. We’ll take gold at the Grand Prix Final, I know it.”

Victor says, “Yuuri,” and lets go the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Nothing you can say or do could possibly let me down.”

\--

Victor finds himself at loose ends in the morning. Too restless to sleep in, not enough time to get in a good practice of his own at the rink. He’s eating rice omelet when Mari comes in and drops a laundry basket of towels on the floor next to him.

“The guests use so many towels,” she grumbles. “Nobody needs so many towels. Right?” She sighs an exaggerated, put-upon sigh, then winks at him. She finds a clean corner of the table, takes a towel from the basket, and folds it into thirds, then quarters. Sets it on the table and repeats with another towel.

Victor pushes his plate aside, picks up a towel, and starts folding. He folds one in half, then half again. Mari makes him shake it out and start over. Pretty soon he’s got the hang of it, and she nods in approval as his tidy stack grows higher.

After a while, she breaks the companionable silence. “My brother is a very... serious person.”

 _“So desu,”_ agrees Victor.

She nods. “When he wants something, he is very serious. You cannot tell him no.” Fold, fold, stack. She pats the pile of towels. 

“I know somebody like that,” Victor says.

“Sometimes he acts as if he is only about Yuuri,” she goes on. “That is why it is strange that you are here now.”

This gives Victor pause. “How is it strange?”

She turns another towel into a neat package. “Because he sent you back here. Away from him. For your Makkachin.” She fishes for another towel but comes up empty. “He needs you. I see. My mother sees. My father sees. Why does he let you go?” 

She waits patiently for Victor’s reply as if teaching him a zen koan. When he blinks at her wordlessly, she reaches over and lightly taps his heart through his shirt. Then she shrugs, stands, and starts stacking the towels in the basket.

“We will go soon to the dog doctor. I will teach you to drive.”

“I can drive,” protests Victor.

Mari raises an eyebrow. “On the left side of the road?” She hoists the basket to her hip. “Front door, fifteen minutes.”

\--

Once Mari is confident that Victor won’t accidentally turn into the wrong lane or run any stop signs, she turns on a J-Pop station on the radio. “Good song!” she says, teaching him the chorus. Soon they’re chanting it and laughing all the way to the vet clinic.

The huge, exuberant poodle comes close to knocking Victor over when the vet technician walks him into the waiting room. To be fair, Victor nearly does the same, wrapping his arms around Makka and murmuring endearments in Russian, scratching his floppy ears and planting kisses on his curly fur. Makkachin looks ready to wag his tail all the way off.

The three of them pile into the Katsukis’ car. Makkachin tries to nuzzle Victor while he’s driving. Mari tells Victor to lower one of the back windows, and soon Makkachin has his nose in the wind, ears streaming behind him.

\--

Victor spots Yuuri’s mom in the driveway that afternoon. “Mrs. Katsuki,” Victor calls out. She looks up to see him walking toward her, Makkachin at his heels. “I can go pick up Yuuri at the airport for you. It’s a lovely day for a drive.”

“Oh, you don’t mind?” she says. He thinks he sees a hint of a smile in her eyes.

\--

He hasn’t slept well. He may have forgotten to comb his hair. But when he sees Yuuri on the other side of the glass barrier, he breaks into a run.

_I have so much to tell you. I know you will come to know your own heart... in your own time._

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s waist and the world is whole again.

_Can you believe in me the way I believe in you?_

**Author's Note:**

>  _Sumimasen_ = "Excuse me" or "Sorry"  
>  _Spasiba_ and _arigato_ = "Thank you"  
>  _So desu_ = "That's right"
> 
> My first fic for YOI - let me know what you think, thanks!


End file.
